A Dominant's Return

TYLER

I’m on the verge of telling him that I’m going to push him to his limits when the doors swing open. I plan to make him beg for release, to surrender control to me. But I choose to keep my plans to myself as the door opens, reminding me that I don’t need to explain myself.

I’m the one in control. He’s the one who submits.

His submission is mine to take, and it’s been a while since I’ve claimed it. This is a small test, to see if we’re still the same people we once were. He’ll catch on soon enough. Zach knows me better than anyone.

But until then, I’ll savor the anticipation. Maybe this will bring us closer, mend the gap that’s been growing between us.

The constant strain of the past few months has been unbearable. I haven’t been this assertive with him since he came back. I don’t know all the details of what happened, but I know enough. He was restrained and violated against his will.

Even if he won’t confess it to me, I know.

“Strip, pet. Kneel by the cross,” I order, slipping into character as soon as we enter our room for the night. He smirks, a smirk I plan to erase by the end of the night.

Or maybe by tomorrow night. However long it takes, I’ll make sure of it.

I’m going to claim Zach in a way I’ve never done before. I had a taste of it that night with Violet in our playroom. I want more. I crave more.

I’m going to make him mine.

I don’t waste time choosing my tools for the night. A large vibrating butt plug, though he doesn’t know about the vibration yet. The remote control is hidden in my pocket.

A beaded flogger. Metal cuffs that will dig into his skin. And the bed.

Simple, but effective.

If only he would make it easy, but I know this will take time. He won’t give in easily, but that’s my goal. I’m done playing games. I’m not the person he thinks I am.

When I turn around, he’s still standing, now naked.

“Hands…” He extends them before I finish speaking. “Eager, pet?”

He grins, dimples on full display as I cuff his hands together. I make sure they’re extra tight. He’s already disobeyed me once by not kneeling, so this is his punishment.

“I’ve never heard you talk like this. I like it,” he says, grinning. My hand connects with his cheek, turning his head away with the force of the slap.

That’s new…

“You are my pet in here. Treat me with the respect I deserve, or this will be more painful than you can handle, Zachary.”

He snorts, so I grab his hair, pulling his head back hard enough to make him wince. Fear flickers in his eyes before he hides it.

“I’m done playing your games. Believe me or not, it doesn’t change the truth, pet. It doesn’t change the fact that I love you and want to claim you.”

“I’m yours.”

“Not in here… If you were, you wouldn’t be keeping secrets or disobeying my orders.”

He stiffens, and I tap the side of his head, indicating what I want. He knows what secrets I’m talking about. Maybe I’ll uncover them tonight, or tomorrow, or in a month. But I intend to find out what happened. What that man did to change my husband.

“Arms above for the hook.”

He backs up to the hook hanging from the ceiling, every muscle in his body tensing. I unscrew the carabiner, hooking it through a link in the middle of the cuffs, careful not to touch him.

His weight could bend the loop if he tried hard enough, but otherwise, it will help the cuffs put pressure on his wrists.

“Fuck, you look magnificent, pet. You’ve lost some muscle. And you haven’t been taking care of yourself. But even so, you’re still a work of art that I love.”

“Fuck you.” I’ve struck a nerve. He hasn’t been taking care of himself lately. One of my rules as his master is for him to exercise, to blow off steam while staying fit.

He’s been eating junk food and not doing anything to counteract the effects on his body. His body is far from what it was after being taken to London, where he was starved, by the looks of it. His muscles have softened. Instead of being a solid wall of muscle, he’s more like a well-built bear.

“You’ll start exercising again. Limiting the junk food you eat. No more drugs, pet. We have a child now. A little girl who will depend on us for the rest of our lives,” his eyes blaze when I mention Ella. She’s just as much a reason for being healthy and sober as Violet is. Or Callum. Or me.

“I’m angry. I never let my anger control my need for a scene,” I confess, running my hand down his chest to find the scar. It’s pink against his tanned skin.

I trace the raised skin, the only blemish on his otherwise perfect body. It stands out to me. I know it will fade, but that doesn’t mean we won’t remember it’s there and what it represents.

“I usually leave that to you, pet. I like being calculated, planning our scenes. Being in control. Everything you used to be, but it seems that neither of us is the same as we once were.”

“Stop it,” he pleads.

I laugh, a laugh I’ve never heard from myself before.

“Or what, Zachary? What are you going to do? I have you cuffed and hanging from a carabiner, naked… You’re at my mercy, pet,” his nostrils flare with anger before he smiles lazily.

“I could safe word?” he suggests, as if those words hold any weight. They don’t. It’s an empty threat.

“You’ve never safe-worded, ever,” his eyes glaze over as if remembering something, “or have you?”

He shrugs, avoiding my gaze. I think he’s lying.

What the fuck did that man do?

“I guess that’s just another thing you’re keeping from me then,” I say, disappointment gnawing at me.

“I don’t know if I actually said it. I was hallucinating,” he whispers as I turn to walk away.

My teeth clench.

He only hallucinates when he pushes his limits with… Oxygen deprivation.

“How long?” I ask, schooling my features.

When I turn back, he’s hanging his head, his hair falling in his face.

“Pet?”

“Ten.” Minutes?

“That’s four past…”

“I know.” Your limit.

“How did you feel?” He’s never gone past six minutes, always tapping out when his body starts to shut down.

His gaze turns cold. He starts to beg then, not really aware of what he’s saying. I’ve never pushed him farther because I knew his body’s limits. Or so I thought.

“I didn’t like it,” he admits. Good, I think.

As I walk around him, I prepare the plug.

He can’t see that I’m using lube. He’d probably object if he knew, but he hasn’t been fucked much since he came back, and I don’t want to hurt him. Not that the plug is that big. It’s about the size of a small orange.

He’s taken larger, a long time ago.

He gasps as I rub the plug against his entrance.

“Tyler,” he says. I growl in response. “Sir,” he corrects himself, so I reward him with a kiss on the cheek, my lips lingering as I lube up his hole.

“What is it?”

I push against him, but he’s tensing against the intrusion. That’s not like him.

He doesn’t answer my question, and I don’t ask again. He had his chance to object, to safe-word and explain, but he stayed silent. So I push against him until his body accepts the plug. His head is thrown back as I reach the widest part. Then it slips inside him effortlessly.

“There’s a certain thrill in using a toy on a lover. The way it pushes boundaries, stretching a place that I’ve been before… it stirs something in me, knowing that pressure is being applied to a spot I’ve claimed,” I say, tracing the small jewel on the outside of his body, manipulating the plug in a circular motion to emphasize my point. “Ready for some fun, love?”

I begin with the flogger, a favorite of Zach’s.

The sting it leaves as the beads strike his skin, leaving behind the marks he loves to admire later, is his preferred form of discipline.

“No need to keep track. Just enjoy the ride, babe.”

I start out gentler than usual.

Observing his body for his response. His breathing, his tension, the sharp intake of breath as the beads connect with his skin. Ensuring I’m not crossing any lines. It’s been a while since we’ve played like this.

At first, he’s fine. Taking everything with a gasp or a deep breath until his arousal is evident, and I know I have him exactly where I want him.

“What a good boy. Look at you. Aroused and ready for me. If only we had another mouth here to tease you,” I muse, deciding instead to use the vibrations to tease him from within.

I start with the second lowest setting, his body jerking at the sudden sensation. His toes curl into the carpet beneath them.

“That’s—”

“Shh. Remember, love. I’m the one in control. You’ll let me know when you’re close, right? You don’t have permission to climax, and if you do, your discipline will only last longer.”

“Tyler…”

With a swift motion of my wrist, I land a particularly sharp strike against his body. His skin instantly blooms with red half-moons and long streaks from the tassel. He hisses in a mix of pleasure and pain before closing his mouth with a smirk.

“I want your surrender, love. I want your secrets. I want all of you,” I whisper.

That’s when I start raining down strike after strike with my wrist. His skin is so marked with little half-moon welts that I can’t distinguish the old from the new by the time I’m nearing the end of his discipline.

“Sir?”

I almost dismiss his plea before I remember that I told him he didn’t have permission to climax.

I almost lost myself. But it only takes a click of a button for the plug to stop, and I step back to regain my composure as he teeters on the edge of climax. His arm and stomach muscles flex with the effort to hold back from tumbling over the edge of his climax.

“That’s it, good boy. Your release is mine to command,” I murmur, watching as he braces himself with the carabiner clutched in both hands. He’s a quick learner, but he’s not quite prepared for his peak just yet.